Firestorm's Breath
by lawl89
Summary: DracoxLunaxHarry
1. Possession

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it, including but not limited to: any of the characters, names, titles, logos, and ideas. This fanfic is written purely for entertainment/recreational purposes. No money or profit is being made. This disclaimer goes for all chapters of the entire fic.

Holy Crud that was a long disclaimer! I was bored, okay?!!! Yes, I have a life. Shut up. I DO! I SWEAR I DO!!! WE SWEARS!!!! WE SWEARS ON THE PRECIOUS!!!!!! (Disclaimer: Don't own Lord of the Rings) shifty eyes

Yes, I'm back. A couple of hate emails coughLady'sEternalDarknesscough and flames and harsh criticism and haters later, to once again plague the website with my terrible writing and annoying repetitions!!! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me and The Dark Wanderer have a new fanfic (co-written) and posted on her account. I hope it's back up, as it was taken down due to a misunderstanding and a squealer (you know who you are, my gophers are hunting). There have been a lot of problems with squealing lately. Anyone else get squealed on and have their stories removed for stupid reasons? Join my union, SSU (Stop Squealers United!!!! Oh yeah!)!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyways, I'll probably get squealed on for this long spiel, but the whole point of it is to tell you all that I am back, and I have a union!!!! JOIN SSU TODAY!!!!!

ANYWAYS, this IS a Draco/Luna fanfic. They're all grown up (sob my little babies!!! All growed up!!) and Luna and Harry are Aurors. Draco is a Death Eater. Please review!!! I live on reviews!!!

CHAPTER 1

"No, no, no, no, no!!!!!! That's wrong!!! What's the matter with you? Can you do nothing right?!!!!" Harry's cheeks puffed out like a hamster eating an apple core as he bellowed at her, something Luna would have found funny if she wasn't hanging upside down by her ankles, both hands tied behind her back, gagged, and submerged in a tank of ice water.

She gave him the best glare she could manage with water seeping up her nose in a cold trickle. "Byme bying!!!!!!" She yelled through the gag in a stream of bubbles. There went her air. "Schit!"

"Try harder!!!" Harry yelled back. "Remember, focus!! And if you get free, try to disarm me!"

Luna closed her eyes. Like she had been taught, she focused on nothing and everything at once. She felt power pulsing in her. She felt the room. The tank, the chairs, tables, pipes, the walls, the floor; they all swirled in her mind, sucked into the whirlwind of dreams and ambitions, lost love and hatred, her wall of self-control, everything that made Luna herself. Her memories flew through her mind. She felt anger, happiness, sadness, physical and emotional pain and pleasure, love, and hatred fly forth unbidden with her recollection of her life. She let it simmer, and then slowly, gathering it in the darkest recesses of her mind, unleashed it like a tidal wave, calling the magic to her.

Her wand smashed through the wall of the tank to her hand, her fingers tightening on it. Glass flew everywhere. Her bonds snapped, and she fell heavily on the floor, yanking out her gag and readying her wand. She dropped back, bracing on one leg, her eyes snapping open like a cat's. The world was in complete focus. She was drifting. Drifting in a room of sharpened detail and heightened senses. She focused on Harry. She watched his breathing quicken, heard his pulse. Saw the way the blood flowed and his heart beat. Saw the muscles working, contacting and flexing under his skin as he raised his wand, almost in slow motion. He was too slow. Luna brought her wand up in a sweep and uttered the first spell that came to her lips. She didn't know what it was, it was nothing but babble to her when she was where she was now, but it send him flying backwards. Silvery ropes burst out of the tip of her wand and wrapped themselves around him.

She raised her wand, power leaping to her mouth as she uttered the killing curse, magic forming in a growing ball on the tip of her wand. A small voice in the back of her head screamed for her to stop, but the new Luna was beyond listening.

Harry's eyes were huge. "Luna, stop. This isn't funny anymore."

Luna was beyond listening. Her teeth bared as her lips drew back in a snarling smile.

"Luna! Stop!"

Luna laughed. She laughed and laughed; the sound echoing off the walls. "Stop?" Her voice was a dry rasp, a dark hiss. "Harry, my dear, I've barely begun."

The door opened. Luna ignored it. It was not important. She had to kill the man before her. It was what pushed her mind, compelled her. Footsteps entered.

"Bloody hell!" She heard someone yelp, and then she was swirling into the darkened depths of unconsciousness.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Luna woke up in the Infirmary. Her whole body ached. She tried to sit up, but her muscles felt like jelly. She sank back down onto the pillows. What happened?

"Is she awake?" The quiet whisper coming from the door made her ears perk up.

"She just woke up, sir."

"Normal?"

"Yes, sir."

The voice, which Luna recognized as Harry's, blew a sigh of relief. "Good. I would never have thought this would happen to Luna. I should have been more careful."

"Don't blame yourself, sir."

"It's my job to blame myself. Dismissed."

"Very good, sir." The nurse left the room with a curtsey.

Harry came and sat on the edge of Luna's bed. His intent green eyes searched her silver ones.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

Luna shrugged. "I am, other than the fact I feel like pudding. This is actually kind of nice, because I always wanted to be pudding. Chocolate. Or vanilla. Just not strawberry."

Harry laughed. "You're back to normal, at least."

Luna looked at him, her eyes scanning his soul. "What the hell happened?"

Harry's laughter cut off. "Or not." He sighed deeply. "Luna, I don't know. Using magic without a wand is a new practice. Hermione is trying as hard as she can, but she _still_ can't seem to figure out what we're doing, right or wrong. You managed it, but something happened. Have you ever read the Muggle book, _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide_?"

Luna crinkled her nose thoughtfully. "A long time ago."

"Yes, well, that's what it's like. You managed to get farther than any Auror has managed to get so far, and we don't know what happened to you. We think that you made a new breakthrough, but instead of you controlling the magic, it controlled you."

Luna swallowed. "Will it happen again?"

Harry chewed his lip. "We don't know, Luna."

Luna shrugged. "As mum used to say, 'Don't sweat the petty stuff, and don't pet the sweaty stuff'. Stop worrying."

Harry laughed. "We'll just have to be more careful next time. Sorry about pushing you. I never imagined that would happen."

Luna sighed gallantly, putting on an exaggerated air. "Harry, dear, me either. And even Hermione didn't know. And if she didn't know something, there'll be a blue moon tonight. Which is, technically, impossible, because everyone knows the moon is made of parmesan. Not blue cheese, parmesan. If it was blue cheese, I would have gone and eaten it. But I haven't. But it could be mozzarella. Or cheddar, white cheddar............"

Harry laughed again and hugged her. "Just be careful, okay?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing the diamond ring that graced the fourth finger of her left hand. "We don't want anything to happen to us before we get married."

Luna smiled. "Of course."

"Sir?" A cautious knock sounded at the door. A short, bald man with tufts of hair at least a foot long sticking out in every direction and a ruddy, sweaty face shifted nervously from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his neck, clutching a small envelope.

Harry sat up, twining his fingers with Luna's and briefly squeezing her hand before releasing her. "Yes?"

"Um, Mr. Ronald Weasley asked me to give this to you, sir. He says it's urgent. Sir. It's about the Muggle killings, sir. Sir, he says there was a note on one of the bodies, sir."

Harry stood, brushing at his robes. "A note?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let me see it."

"Here you go, sir." He handed Harry the envelope. "Anything else, sir? I can help, sir."

Harry turned and headed back to Luna. "One thing, stop calling me sir so much. You sound like a house elf."

"Sorry, sir."

Harry shook his head in exasperation. "Please tell Ron thanks and I'll see him in the board room with Hermione and the twins later."

Bowing and scraping, the man left.

Harry sat down heavily on the bed. Luna chuckled at him, rubbing his shoulder. "So, tell me, how does it feel to be the head of the Order of the Phoenix and all Aurors?"

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "You have no idea." Pulling a letter opener out of a drawer that Luna floated over to him, he slit the envelope and pulled out the plastic bag inside. A crumpled, damp piece of paper smeared in blood, mud, and curvy, thin neat writing was inside. Harry pulled it by the light, and all the mud and blood disappeared. "Good old Hermione." He muttered, scanning the writing.

"What's it say?" Luna asked, peering as best she could without moving too much over his shoulder.

Harry froze.

"Harry?"

Harry licked his lips. "I thought he was dead." He muttered.

"Who? You-Know-Who?"

"Voldermort? No. he could hardly be dead unless he was hit by a stray spell in the past battle, but he wasn't even there. It's Malfoy."

"Who?"

"You remember him, the kid from school? Slytherin?"

"Oh, him. But he's dead! I saw Ron kill him!"

Harry's face hardened. "Apparently not." He shoved the note at her. "Read this!"

Luna held it up to the light, almost hearing the drawl of the former Slytherin's voice.

"**_Potter,_**

**_ You think you have won, don't you? There is much, as always, for you to learn. You think I am dead? Was the Dark Lord dead twenty-two years ago? No. Granted, he was not living as he should have, but there are levels of survival to which he is willing to sink, as am I. _**

****

**_ Congratulations on your engagement. Luna has become a lovely woman, perfect for you. Lonny Lovegood seems like an odd choice, but as always, Potter, you had to be better than anyone else was (or more......unique?). _**

****

**_ Please tell Weasley (the young one) to stop using the orange scented shampoo. It smells horrible. Oh, and Dobby and Winky will be married soon, as will Ron and Hermione. They will tell you the news tonight. As it were, they cannot read this part of the letter if they try. It would spoil my announcement._**

****

**_ Remember, Potter, I know everything. You cannot hide. _**

****

****

**_Draco Malfoy, Death Eater."_**

Well? Continue it? Burn it? holds lighter by story

REVIEW!!


	2. Tattoo

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! My union now has 5 members! GO ME!!!! Lolz, please join!

I saw Troy yesterday. It is SUCH a good movie!!! Hector is **_MY_** Precious!!! I am Adromache (his wife)!!!

GO FLAMES GO!!!!! Yah Kiprusoff!!! Go Iggy!

Chapter 2

After three days in the hospital Luna was bored almost to tears.

She had read almost every magazine available at least three times, amused herself by setting things on fire at least six times, conjuring images of Malfoy burping slugs at least sixty times, studied the strange note (gotten freaked out) at least three hundred times, and eaten perhaps four hundred Chocolate Frogs.

And she was still bored. But she wasn't allowed out of bed for another week. She was restless and grumpy. And poor Harry had a death wish. He visited her and "suggested" that maybe she shouldn't eat so much chocolate. The lump on his head, handprint on his face, three broken fingers, two cracked ribs, concussion, and his squished "happy place" would heal, but he should have known better than to call her fat. She hoped he could still have kids after the way she kicked him, but she didn't do Tae Kwon Doe for six years for nothing. Well technically, he didn't actually_ **say** _she was fat, but he_ **implied**_ it, and that was just as bad as Luna saw it.

She turned on her side, fiddling with her bed sheets. They needed washing; she suspected the people at St. Mugo's just turned them over for every new patient.

An hour passed.

She stared almost wistfully at the ceiling, looking for an air vent or something she could crawl through to escape.

Two more hours crawled by. They _literally_ crawled.

The door creaked open, and bushy hair showed slightly. Luna leapt out of bed, attacking the startled the person coming through the door with a hug.

"Hermione! I knew you would come!" She hugged the other woman tighter, ignoring the muffled screams. "Get me out! I swear I will kill someone if I don't get out!" She laughed insanely, ruffling her friend's hair furiously.

"Hermione" coughed. Luna looked down to see the nurse she was crushing in a hug.

"Oops."

Two days later, Luna was in bed, trying to sleep as she wavered in and out of a haze of nausea. She swore the hospital thought she was too healthy, so they poisoned her.

Vomit welled up in her throat, and she barely had time to grab her bucket before it came out. She moaned quietly through the stomach juices and partially digested supper that she was retching out.

'_There goes the carrots.'_ She thought hazily. _'And the peas. Oh, there's the lettuce!'_

The door creaked open; a can clinked on the ground, and a low hiss escaped. The door closed again. Luna barely glanced up, too absorbed in her tango with the bucket. She suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion rush through her. A rancid smell filled the air. The door opened again. Footsteps walked around her bed, stopping behind her. Luna tried to see who it was, but her body wouldn't respond. A painfully crushing grip caught the back of her neck. She tried to reason what was happening, but her brain wouldn't work. She tried to raise her hand, to stop puking, to move, but her body was sluggish and wouldn't seem to obey the commands she was sending it. A robed arm brought a vial under her nose, and Luna caught it, accidentally pulling back the robes to reveal a tattoo. She tried to make it out, but her vision was blackening and going gray around the edges, drifting in and out of focus.

A deep voice chuckled. "Relax, Lovegood, or this will hurt."

Luna fought unconsciousness until blinding pain seared through her body, loosening the fragile grip she had on reality.


	3. Living Memories

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. You all get a cookie, except it might take a while. The last time I made cookies I set the microwave on fire. And it's kinda hard stuffing it in the computer............my email still doesn't work.

Sorry it took so long to update, it has been bloody INSANE with school and swimming.

Oh, hurray. I got a flame. And a VERY rude one rubs hands together evilly. Bring on the bitch attack! (I love this!)

Dear Tir,

You are either very rude or very much PMSing. If you were just having a bad week, go get yourself some chocolate and ignore this reply. If you're just rude, enjoy! (If you're a guy, you're obviously gay, so I won't go there.) Everything you said is in quotes.

"First of all - I'm not reviewing your fics. They are shit, as I can tell already."

I laugh at your stupidity. You are, in fact, reviewing my fic. When you pressed the button that said, "Submit Review", you might have accidentally posted some criticism that could be (gasp).............helpful! The horror!   
You skimmed my profile huh? If you had left up a signed review I might be able to return the favor. I like LotR, but not the books. Do you have a problem with that? No, the words aren't too big for me. I actually did read the books, but I just don't enjoy the old style of writing. Deal with it. Not all of us have a pole up our ass. Too bad, or you could start a cult.

Oh, and I do know how Bilbo got the Ring. And not just from the movie. I read The Hobbit at least six or seven times, and enjoyed it. "You're an idiot. You disrespect the fandom by even uttering its' name. Get a life." I disrespect the fandom by uttering its name, huh?

Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Rings. (gasp)

Get a life? I do have one, obviously, as I am typing a reply to your brainless and time-wasting complaints, which would require me to breathe air and my heart to beat, which proves I am living.   
  
My horrible spelling and grammar? That's only on my profile, not my fics. I typed that profile because I was bored and didn't feel like spending too much time on it.

Ah, yes, Orlando Bloom. (Did anyone else notice his initials are the same as a brand of tampon???) I'm over him, as of, oh, maybe three months ago? I really need to work on my profile.   
  
"Also ... why the HELL did you start reading Harry Potter if you so obviously do not like the main character? You must be thicker than I thought, for saying Harry is a MS. Come on, you retard. The book titles have his name in them! Did you not notice that when you picked up the fucking book?"

(Shakes head) Tut, tut, tut. Now, that wasn't nice, was it? Language, language, language. Firstly, Harry annoys me. Not when the original author writes, of course, but it's just his poor little martyred hero attitude I dislike. When I picked up the fucking book, I didn't know what the book was about (more or less) or what it was like, now did I? I'm not psychic. I'm psycho. There's a difference. And don't use that word (retard). It's a very discriminating term, and shouldn't be used, even when you're flaming someone. It is actually very hurtful to some people.  
  
"As for your hatred for Country Music - you're insulting a nation there, deary. But don't worry ... we hate you too. I'm guessing you're Canadian then? Here's some advice - stay in Canada."

What nation am I insulting? America? Oh, I would never be that stupid. I actually like President Bush. He stands up for what he believes in, and works unselfishly for a better world. But we're not here to get into politics. Stay in Canada? Oh, I plan to. Where are you from? Texas?  
  
"And you so obviously must be a prep and an airhead - only they can be so stupid."

And I SO obviously must be a prep? Haha! PREPPY ALERT!!! You just contradicted yourself there, deary. I laughed so hard I fell out of my chair when I read that.  
  
So, Tir, allow me to give you some constructive criticism.  
  
1) Take the pole out of your ass.  
2) Find yourself some friends.  
3) Try to get some self-esteem; you obviously need it if all you do is flame at people. Or if you're just PMSing, get yourself some chocolate.  
4) Stay the hell away from my fics.

5) Go fuck yourself. You seem to need the attention.   
  
Have a nice day.

Chapter 3

Luna woke up in a dark dungeon, her head ringing like she'd drunk ten beers the night before. She closed her eyes and wished that was the case. At least she would have actually drunk beer. This wasn't fair, a hangover with no beer. Blame it on whichever stupid person decided beer was illegal in hospitals.

After about five minutes of closing her eyes and crossing her fingers (desperately wishing for a beer) all to no effect, Luna decided to open her eyes and see if she could get out of this place. Or at least get a sweater and a tent.

"Hello?" She called. "Heeeeelllllllllllloooooooooooooooooo? Anybody there? Harry, you there? This isn't funny! You there?"

"Obviously not, or he would have answered your incessant screeching." The drawling tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Cold sweat trickled between Luna's shoulderblades as she recognized the voice.

It couldn't be. He was dead. She had watched Ron kill him. Watched his body jerk and slowly crumple, taking an eternity to hit the ground as his pale features widened with shock, his mouth opening slightly with the pain that flashed in the instant before he died. Watched the way his dark robes had folded under his body, his silvery-white hair falling over his face. Admired the way he died. Almost. Felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that his life had been wasted. She had helped to carry the lifeless corpse away to be burned. Helped wrap it in a burial shroud and placed the sack gently on the wagon as it was pulled away, carrying the bodies of the dead away to be burned. No one had known her secret then, and nobody knew now.

Luna shook off the memory and took a slow, deep breath. She mustn't panic. She mustn't show fear. Slowly, Luna turned herself over and stared up at the hooded figure. "I always seem to face the wrong way, don't I, Draco? Just like you. Ron would have preferred if you looked at him when you died, but it's all good, at least you are dead. But that would be technically impossible because here you are, standing and gabbing your head off about the weather. But you aren't talking about the weather, just muttering about my yelling. So either you didn't die or you were dead. But no spell can bring back the dead, so unless _I'm_ dead too, then this isn't happening. Somebody please pinch me, I must be dreaming."

Draco laughed. The sound echoed off the walls. Luna fought to suppress a shiver of fear. Again, cold sweat trickled down Luna's back, between her shoulder blades. It felt like a snake sliding slowly down her spine. She shoved away the thought.

Draco smiled, pulling down his hood to reveal his face. "No, this is very real. Unfortunately for you." Luna studied his face. It was more or less the same as she remembered, pale and pointed, with intense eyes that seemed to read her soul.

Draco seated himself on the single chair that graced the room and waving his wand, pulled her upright so she was floating about a foot off the ground. "We have questions, and you have answers."

The bored expression on his face scared her spitless. Luna tried not to show her fear, putting on a cheesy grin. "Me? Answers? You have the wrong girl, Draco, dear. Typical minion, can't get a thing right, eh?"

Draco smiled, his eyes shone with dark light. No, Luna thought, they didn't shine. They glittered. Like a tiger hunting. He shrugged. "Maybe you are the wrong person to ask, but there's one way to find out." Luna knew she was dancing with death as he raised his wand. "Shall we begin, then?"

Luna cocked her head sideways. She fought terror as it welled up within her. "No?"

Draco's smile widened. "Yes."

Screams echoed out of the dark dungeon, echoing off the walls. Piercing high shrieks, low groans of agony, gasps for air, and Harry's name cried over and over between choking sobs. There were no pleas for mercy, and none was granted.

"Where. Is. She." Harry's voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife. No one dared raise their heads from where they were bent over possible clues or their voices in opinions. Harry looked over the room, his green eyes dark with rage. "No one." He spat. "Absolutely no one knows."

A tall man glanced up from his book and rose slowly. His black hair was streaked with grey and even white touching at his temples, despite his mere forty years of age. He had not aged well. Scars and deep lines creased his sallow face, almost transparent with the stress. His left arm was missing. The Dark Lord was not forgiving.

"May I speak?" The man asked cautiously, his dark eyes holding a touch of fear.

Harry nodded.

The man raised his left arm. The stump sent a shiver through everyone in the room that had been there that dark night when the former Potions Master had been found in a gutter on the side of the road, his arm viciously torn off and shredded. The rest of his body had been in perfect condition except for one thing. He had been skinned alive, no flesh left on his frame, and had almost died, laying a pool of his own dark blood when Hermione found him and managed to get help in time.

"Voldermort knew I was a traitor, Potter." Snape said softly. "He thinks me dead. I would rather keep it that way, thank you." A murmur of agreement ran around the room. Snape waited for it to die out before he continued, his voice soft, yet holding everyone's attention. "He is not forgiving. He kills all opposition." The former teacher paused, and continued so softly Harry had to strain to hear him. "After he tortures and extracts information from them."

"What are you saying?" Harry demanded angrily.

Snape's eyes flicked briefly to take in the rest of the room before returning to meet his former pupil's. "I think you know, Potter."

"What do you mean?" Harry's tone carried a note of desperation. He couldn't mean what he was saying. Snape couldn't know what he was saying. He must be delirious. He must be.

Snape was silent.

"What do you mean?!!!" The sudden shout made everyone in the room jump. No one dared look up.

Snape sighed quietly. "I think this meeting has accomplished all it was set to do. You may leave."

There was a moment of silence, then a mad stampede as everyone raced for the door.

Harry slumped against the table. Snape looked him over as he turned for the door. "You cannot do anything to save her, Potter. Your rules. We cannot risk lives to save just one. The fact that she is your fiancée does not matter. So many others had to live by your rule, and the only way to lead is by example." He closed the door behind him softly.

Harry put his head in his hands and did something he hadn't done in a long time.

He cried.


	4. Confessions

Have finally decided to update as have had SERIOUS mental block for the past while........blame summer....SCRAPE OFF ALL THAT BRAIN RUST!!! Lol lol, inside joke....

As for the World Cup of H, GO CANADA GO!!! GO FINLAND!!!!

SPECIAL THANKS TO LADY'S ETERNAL DARKNESS FOR AGREEING TO BETA THIS STORY!!!

EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS TO ALL REVIEWERS AND NEW UNION MEMBER!!! WELCOME RUBY!!!

Princess Kiikii-or-whatever-the-hell-it-is was just some random bitch that flamed LED. I'm her beta reader, so I flamed PK, and so she flamed me, and so on. Just if anyone's wondering.......

Anyways, here it is......enjoy......

Note: Chapters will be much longer from now on, so updates might take a while.....

Luna woke up on stone. It was cold and glassy. It was weird; she would have thought she would have died already. Blame whoever in her family was a cockroach. Too bad relief from pain hadn't come with her life, but she wasn't complaining, life was better than death. Or so she thought now, but give the next time Mr. Malfoy came nancing in she would be singing a different tune.

Her ears ached, and her eyes wouldn't open properly. One was swollen shut ands the other was caked with some reddish dried power that stung when it contacted her eyeball. She blinked it away. Dried blood was really gross, especially in your eyes. She hoped she would be able to see after her ordeal.

The rest of her body ached as if she'd run six of Mad-Eye's training sessions. Luna wasn't in bad shape, she had never been, but those really had been hard. The aftermath of that had been sore muscles, but Draco's visit left her with something else. Now there was a faint tingling in her entire body, as if her nerves were raw from screaming for so long. They probably were, she thought darkly.

Luna flipped over and tried to adjust herself more comfortably when she realized her bonds were gone. She sat up too quickly and had to lay down again, waiting for the black spots that danced across her partial vision to subside.

Gingerly, she touched her swollen eye. It was bruised, but nothing worse. Her vision seemed fine. Her other eye, although caked in blood, dried blood, which was as irritating as chili powder when it touched her eyeball, was also in working order when gently cleaned out.

Her wrists were bruised, as she expected; dark, angry circles and red welts marked her bonds' former positions. A cut on her forehead and a lump on her cheekbone proved to be her only physical injuries; the cut had bled into her eye and the bruising had spread from her cheekbone.

But it was the constant tingling, not unlike the buzzing of a million bees, which was the only reminder of her old schoolmate's visit.

Gingerly, Luna stood. Her cell was fairly spacious, but she had no idea where it was. The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters would randomly meet and a huge battle would ensue, but each side was forever trying to find the other's location so they could attack the other's heart. She guessed she was in the Death Eater's hideout, but she wasn't sure.

Luna vaguely remembered last night; there had been questions, she knew, but she wasn't positive she hadn't given him any answers. It was all too fuzzy, like an old Muggle television.

She hoped Harry would move the Order. If she hadn't told them where they had been hiding already she most likely would in due time.

Luna shook her head slowly to clear her thoughts and spun the protective cloak she had watched others from under most of her school years. She had found most people left her alone; they thought she was strange. It was fine by Luna; all the company she needed was herself. People were fun to gauge anyways, she found a lot out about their character by how they reacted to her.

She had always liked being alone, it left her to think in peace and quiet. Love was unneeded, as was attention. Loony Lovegood. Loony wasn't Luna, but she was a part of her. Luna put up her old self that Harry had managed to see through and waited for the sound of approaching footsteps.

The door slowly swung in and Draco Malfoy swept in like a king entering his palace. He was dressed in obsidian robes that swirled like a cloud around his form, and a scarlet cloak. Luna, who had had no time the previous visit to enjoy his features, now studied them from her seat on the floor.

His face was still pale and pointed, with high cheekbones and cold eyes, but it was much older than it had been when she first saw him. His silvery-blond hair, as strait as an arrow, now brushed his shoulders, which were much slimmer than Harry's were, Luna noted. Draco wasn't tall, but he was anything but short. His presence, proud and confident, made him appear taller than he had ever been. The expression of arrogance and cold smugness twisting his pale lips, however, hadn't changed the slightest bit.

"Lovegood." He greeted. "Sleep well?" His tone was oddly pleasant, and he had a touch of genuine happiness in his voice.

A sick feeling settled in Luna's stomach like a rock. She told herself she was being silly. Careful to keep a dreamy expression masking her face, she chose her next words warily. "Well enough."

The other waved his wand and a chair appeared. He seated himself backwards on it and rested his arms on the backrest. His eyes evaluated her.

Luna fought to keep from swallowing. "Well?" She managed to ask, her eyes widening innocently.

Draco shrugged. "Can't I come see my latest object of attention? Especially after she was _so_ good."

Worry gnawed a hole in her stomach, but she carved a dreamy expression onto her face by sheer will. "What do you mean?"

The corners of the Death Eater's mouth twitched upwards. "You don't remember? Oh, Loony, I never knew!"

"What do you mean?" She was battling panic now, and losing badly. Her darkest fears ran rampant through her mind.

He shrugged. The bastard, he was having the time of his life. Luna remembered him at school, he was a sadistic creature by nature, never missing an opportunity to torment the next person to cross his path.

Luna dropped her expression and her dreamy tone turned to a whip's crack without thinking. She had no time or patience for games. "What do you mean?!" She hissed.

Draco grinned and held up his hands. "You told me the location of the Order of the Phoenix, a squad of Death Eaters went in there, killed half of them (or more), and left. I expect we won't be seeing them for a while. All thanks to you."

Luna's heart sank like the Titanic, breaking in half first. Draco just smiled at her.

"No." She whispered. She had betrayed them.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George; even Snape. All because she was too weak and gave in to a murderer. She had caved to pain to save herself, and doing so betrayed all of her friends and comrades. It might have been the deciding factor of the war, and now the world would be doomed because of her.

Suicide seemed a healthy choice to her mind right then.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Harry oversaw the last of the Order leaving the abandoned shack they had used for a base in Northern Ireland. They had to relocate; Luna would be tortured until she told the Death Eaters exactly where the Order was hiding.

It made Harry sick to know Luna's will would be broken, but he couldn't blame her if she told them everything. He had been under the Curse of Pain before, and he would have done anything to break it. Even if that failed, they might resort to Muggle tactics. Harry wasn't sure what he'd do if someone methodically snapped his fingers in half.

He sighed deeply, and his breath misted before him like a massive cloud horse rearing as it tossed its proud head.

The War had been going on since his fifth year at Hogwarts, and Cedric's death had been the first of many. He remembered the day the Death Eaters took London. Every Muggle there had been killed, and every wizard who refused to join them or wasn't a pureblood suffered a similar fate. The Minister of Magic had died that day, hit by a stray spell. Seamus, Harry's old schoolmate, had filled the position, but gave the Order no special treatment. It wasn't as though they expected any, but they were in dire need of charity. The Death Eaters all but ruled the world from their unknown base, but would randomly attack certain people or places to enforce their reign. The Order of the Phoenix was fighting them, of course, as best as they could, but their numbers were rapidly dwindling, and they were losing.

Harry's eyes grew sad as he heard footsteps behind him. Hermione, no doubt.

"Harry? Ready to go yet?" Yes, it was she. Harry's heart ached for her and Ron, trying to live and love in certain death. But he also admired them for it, and valued their lives far above his own. _Such a martyred little hero, the famous Harry Potter has become_, he thought to himself dryly.

"Not quite, Hermione. You go ahead, I'll catch up later. I need to speak to someone."

The footsteps of his best friend crunched away from him, leaving him standing all alone. Harry chewed his lip.

Snape would be a good choice. He knew when and how to keep his mouth tightly shut. But the poor man had been through enough already.

There was Ron or Hermione, of course, but he didn't want secrets to break them up after they had fought for so long to stay together.

Fred and George were just too irresponsible.

Ginny didn't need the extra stress.

Luna was either screaming right now or dead.

Sirius was dead, and had bad experiences with the job anyway. Harry kicked himself mentally for even thinking of it.

Seamus might have been the Minister of Magic, but Harry would never trust anyone he would recommend. It was a political game, and one there was far too much at stake to lose.

He himself was out of the question, he was already a target.

Neville was terrified of torture.

That long list of no's left one man.

Harry smiled to himself. Of course.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

The house was small and badly built, the roof was patchy and most of the stucco was missing. Stains covered the rotting and splintered wood of the deck, rent with claw marks. It looked scary, but Harry knew the inside to be cozy, and well kept. On every night except for one per month.

Thus was the dwelling of Remus Lupin, former Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, werewolf.

Harry sighed heavily as he knocked gently on the door and let himself in.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Luna's eyes were red when Draco visited her the next day. She looked thinner, almost transparent, and her tray of food lay untouched. Her eyes were sunken, her hair scraggly.

Draco plopped down onto his usual chair and leaned on the back, watching her. He didn't exactly love to see her, to talk to her; he just had nothing better to do. He wasn't allowed to leave the mansion, he might be caught by the Order or Aurors; no charms to change appearances placed on a random Muggle passing by would save him again, as it did the last time he had made a careless mistake. He was forced to stay indoors, locked in a dreary castle with no one but his old schoolmate for company.

"What is it, Malfoy?" She asked tiredly.

He cocked his head. "I have some questions."

Luna held out her hands, wrists together. "Go ahead then." She muttered. "It's not like I can refuse you anything when you ask."

"Relax." He said with a jaunty wave of his hand. "I won't hurt you this time. I just want to talk." And he did. He had been puzzling over her for a long time. Luna Lovegood was an interesting person; fun to pick apart and reveal the layers of defenses she had built.

Luna snorted. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I'm curious, Lovegood. Humor me."

Luna regarded him silently.

"Why did you agree to treat my body when no one else would?" He asked. Luna blinked. "You wrapped it in a shroud. Potter would have just burned it, I know that for sure, but you stopped him. You insisted I deserved better. Why?"

Luna swallowed. "Because, Malfoy, I never believed you were an evil person. Misled, but never evil. You were just a boy caught up in his father's demands and expectations."

Draco smiled and snorted softly. Ah, yes, the traditional 'boy must impress father and turns evil, only to be changed by a beautiful woman' story. It was a bad fairytale, far too unrealistic and overdone for his taste. "The only expectations I have are my own, Lovegood. If I am evil, it is by my own will."

Luna's eyes dropped to the floor. The broken expression returned to her face. She ignored the man sitting in front of her. He was the reason she betrayed her friends. It was his fault. He was the enemy.

But why couldn't she hate him?


	5. Escape Attempted

Updates may take a long time, as French has been made a core subject; and I unfortunately have to take it seriously now lol. Swimming is going to be insane as well, as I have moved up. Oh well, I do have an hour everyday after school, so as long as there isn't too much homework......we'll see.

Thanks to all reviewers for reviewing! Yes, I know Luna is a bit OoC, but she's so hard to write! Have been researching Harry Potter books lately, so I hope next few chapters will be better......

VERY IMPORTANT!!!!!! Make sure to re-read the first couple of chapters of this story, as I have changed them slightly and some details may have been altered.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Draco Malfoy was never pleased to be summoned before the Dark Lord.

When he was, it usually meant there would be a punishment or another assignment waiting. Having completed his last assignment so well, Draco hardly expected to be given another. At least until Luna was dead or had no more use. Therefore, that left the punishment option wide open.

He couldn't exactly remember what he'd done (other than failing to extract any information whatsoever from Potter's rather irritating fiancée) but he had a sinking feeling it was something that had seriously irked Voldermort. He mentally slapped himself for saying the name.

He had gotten into the habit in his sixth year at Hogwarts, trying to prove he was as brave as Potter was; the habit was like trouble, easy to get in to, hard to get out of. The fact that he'd said in front of his father and gotten backhanded halfway across the room (he was already halfway and had become rather well acquainted with the wall) had definitely helped him to begin quitting.

Draco shrugged mentally as he strode down the hall, his long black robes swirling around him like dark mist. Punishments never lasted more than an hour; extended use of the Unforgivable Curses seemed to have an unpleasant effect on Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord could hardly afford any more losses. The bloody Aurors were enough as it were.

It wasn't that Draco dreaded being tortured like some of the others, his father for one, had. He was no stranger to pain, in fact, he almost enjoyed it. Pain was a part of him, something he was few days without. Draco was no weakling; that much was impossible with a father like Lucius Malfoy.

He traveled down the blood-red carpet, passing the stairs leading to Luna's room and paused. He decided to visit her when he was done; if he was still in one (preferably usable) piece.

Perhaps Vol-**_the Dark Lord_** was worried he was becoming far too attached to Lovegood. He needn't have.

Lovegood was not an unattractive woman, in fact she was one of the most beautiful Draco had ever seen, yet he felt no attraction to her other than curiosity. She intrigued him in ways he had never expected, and he was more than a little impressed with her bravery. Not many people would scream through the Cruciatus Curse without revealing a single thing. What irked him most, though, was how she was utterly unresponsive to his taunts. Even at school, nothing had seemed to faze her. Luna lived in her own little world, locked away; her mind was a complex puzzle he longed to solve.

However, that was for another time and place, and not the current one he found himself in.

Adjusting already perfect robes, he entered a room through a massive set of oaken doors with polished brass handles. The room was spacious, but gave off the presence of a Muggle dentist's office.

It was a waiting room, and the black door in its far right corner, guarded by two Death Eaters with drawn wands at all times (Draco had hated door duty, luckily he had been promoted and no longer had to do that revolting chore) led to the Dark Lord.

He dry-washed his hands and wet his lips slowly as he glanced around. He hated waiting. Even as a child, he had been incredibly impatient. It was his nature, and he didn't expect it to change any time soon.

He took another step into the room and was met by Peter Pettigrew. Draco's lip curled at the sight, the man disgusted him.

Completely bald save a few strings of white hair greasier than Snape's; skinny arms and legs with a rounded gut; hands almost claws because of the long, jagged nails protruding from their tips; and a nervous, tired look, like he had run a marathon, Pettigrew was the very image of a poor little rat everyone pitied. If you had time for pity, anyways, because if not, there could always be scorn. Draco had no time for pity.

"Pettigrew!" He barked. "Is the Master in?"

The other nodded. "Yes, but he will not see you for a while." He grinned, revealing what teeth he had left. Draco longed to punch them out, but steeled his expression to one of calm. Pettigrew bounced on the balls of his feet. "He seemed very........displeased, Malfoy. I hope you deserve what you get."

Draco cocked his head. "Why is that, rat? Do you enjoy watching punishments?"

The man bore his teeth in a twisted semblance of a smile. "Yes, I do. Especially giving them." At least he was honest.

"I'll bear that in mind." Draco muttered, his mind already on other issues. The twisted bastard hardly deserved his time.

"I get everything I deserve, Malfoy. So will you."

"Don't we all." Draco muttered as he lowered himself into an armchair. "Don't we all."

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Ron strode down the corridors of the magically enlarged building that was now the new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione jogged beside him, complaining steadily about how long his legs were.

"For goodness sakes, Ron! Slow down!"

"Speed up, 'Mione! I'm not going that fast!"

"Yes you are! You have freakishly long legs, Ron!"

He grinned cheekily over his shoulder, "No, you just have freakishly short legs!"

Too late, he remembered the Golden Rule: As far as you, the simple-minded male, are concerned, her body is perfect. If you suggest otherwise, that is fair grounds to receive a slap or a de-manning kick.

Hermione stopped dead and set her jaw.

Ron hastily slowed down, Lupin had warned him about annoying a woman; every month there was a twenty-five percent chance they might bitch at you on a whim. He grinned apologetically, offered his arm gallantly, and bowed; Hermione merely sniffed and passed him with her nose in the air. Maybe more than just twenty-five percent with this one.

"What'd Harry want, d 'ya know?" He asked, changing the subject, a tactic that usually worked.

Hermione glared at him out of the corner of her eye. "No." She said shortly. That obviously hadn't been the right thing to say. He thought fast.

"I didn't mean it!"

Hermione nodded, he was obviously on the right track. "Um, I mean....uh......your legs are perfect! So......um....soft....and.....um.....nice?!"

Hermione slapped him without even gracing him with a glance. Ron rubbed his stinging cheek.

"Uh......I'm sorry?"

"For what?" Her voice was too sweet. Ron worried for the place she would kick if he stepped too far out of line.

"For saying stuff about your legs......."

"Are you implying that my legs are imperfect?!"

Ron backpedaled furiously. "No, of course not!"

"Good." She patted his cheek. "Smart Ronnekins."

Ron wisely shut his mouth and didn't open it again until they had reached Harry's office. Women were just too confusing to speak to.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

The Dark Lord Voldermort ran his pale hands over the snake's scaly head. Like a white spider's legs, his fingers curled in different directions as he contemplated his current situation.

He had no doubt he would win this pathetic excuse for a war he was fighting with the annoying Potter boy who had been his shadow for the past twenty-two years. It had become no more than a matter of when.

He sighed, the sound coming out as a dark hiss. Nagini rose up; a whip of coiled muscle at graced him with a queenly glance. He chuckled darkly to himself. Snakes were truly the best of creatures.

_ "Nagini,"_ he hissed, _"I want you to find loyalties for me."_

The reptile fixed him with a clear, unblinking stare.

_ "No, not now. Tonight. I do not want any unnecessary time wasting. As far as I know, I am perfectly capable to find loyalties from a mere human. If he is one of the rare ones I cannot learn anything from, I will send you. Rest, now, my pet, and refill your venom."_

With something that resembled a nod too much for it not to be one, the snake settled back down, placing her head on her master's lap.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was busy. Since Luna had been kidnapped, Voldermort seemed to have become bolder. Muggle killings had increased an insane amount the past week, and the Order was having a hard time following them. Harry wondered if the old location had been found and destroyed yet.

Hell, he wondered if Luna was alive. Probably not.

He found himself thinking about her a great deal. He remembered the way she had laughed, the way she had looked at him, the way she smiled. He mentally slapped himself. Harry would never see her again; he had to move on.

Moving was the bloody hardest thing he had ever done in his life.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"I don't understand, Master." Draco's voice was slightly angry, but kept more or less under control. He stood stiffly, facing the back of a chair in front of a roaring fire. A long, beautiful snake lay coiled on the floor to the chair's right, its appraising eyes watching Draco's every breath.

Draco hated that snake. It was nothing more than a whip of muscle and flesh, but it was valued far above him, and held in a place he could only dream to reach.

A sigh came from the man sitting in the chair. "You aren't supposed to understand. You are supposed to obey. Like the rest of my servants."

"Master...."

"I allow you far too much, Draco." The use of his first name was a dark warning.

"But, sir, she could still be useful!" Draco refused to destroy Luna just yet. He had yet to figure her out.

"How so?"

"She knows the Order! She could tell us-"

The Dark Lord cut him off with a wave of his hand. "She will say nothing."

"Ransom, perhaps?"

"What could we bargain her for? Potter is no fool. He would never trade the lives of his entire Order for the one girl."

"Forgive me, Master, but I think it would not be wise to destroy her just yet."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Master."

"You have become far too attached to her, yes?"

Draco didn't bother to answer the rhetorical question that was hardly a question. "Master," he breathed, "I have been your faithful servant since I was sixteen." He shook back his sleeve to reveal the tattoo on his arm. "I took this without complaint, I have "died" twice, and I have served you faithfully, without asking for anything. Please, just this one request? She hardly hinders us, but may have some use yet. I don't know why, Master, but I doubt the wisdom in destroying her."

Voldermort was silent. Draco feared he had over-stepped his boundary. Then the wizard laughed. The sound was so unexpected that Draco was caught off-guard.

"You may keep the girl, if you wish. Prove her worth."

Draco bowed and turned to leave.

"You will see Pettigrew on your way out. I'm to busy to punish you."

"Yes, Master."

As the door shut behind the young Death Eater, Voldermort rubbed the back of his snake's head wearily. Nagini hissed softly. It was a question, one the Dark Lord understood perfectly.

_ "Yes, my dear, go now. Go and listen with your silent ears, and be my unseen eyes."_

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Ron knocked cautiously on the door leading to Harry's office. Hermione watched him with her mouth set in a thin line and her eyes narrowed. He deserved a slap, but Hermione doubted that would be enough to snap him back to reality. He was far too upset about Luna, and seemed to almost be enjoying his "lone wolf" role. He had gone all quiet, trying desperately to convince himself that he couldn't endanger anyone else with his humongous burden. Such a little martyr. Typical testosterone-induced mind. He was such a guy. Yup, he needed a good hard pat on the cheek. So did Ron, come to think of it. The little pervert.

"Come in." Harry called wearily from the other side of the door. Hermione set her jaw. No matter how much he deserved it, she would not slap him. She would not slap him. She would not slap him. Well, maybe if he really, really needed it..........No, no, don't think like that.......She would not slap him......ugh.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm to keep him from knocking again, and opened the door. He was obviously hard of hearing, poor guy, after her screamed lecture the night before.

Harry was sitting in a high-backed chair, a fire roaring behind him. Fawkes, Dumbledore's final gift to Harry before he died, rested comfortably to the chair's right, watching them carefully with his appraising gaze.

Hermione watched her friend's tired smile stretch his cheeks briefly. "Ron, Hermione, glad to see you. Please, sit down."

Hermione sat down carefully, but Ron plonked himself in the chair next to her. He set off the Whoopee Cushion, an obvious compliment of Fred and George. Harry came close to smiling like he used to for the first time in a long time. Hermione almost giggled, but reminded herself that Harry wasn't who he used to be. Namely, her friend. He was her boss, now.

"Stupid gits." Ron muttered throwing the offending item away and reseating himself.

"What did you want, Harry?" Hermione asked, ignoring her redheaded companion's grumbles.

Smile disappearing, the wizard rose wearily out of his chair and crossed to the other side of the room, folding his hands behind his back, which was turned to them. He was clearly fighting an intense inner struggle. And losing. Hermione had to remind herself she would not slap him.

"I shouldn't have called you two. I apologize. What I have on my mind is my burden alone."

Hermione had to physically restrain her hand from flying through the air to connect with his face. Stupid git.

There was an awkward silence.

"Have you found anything out from Crabbe yet?" Harry asked; referring to the Death Eater caught outside Hogwarts a week ago.

"No, we haven't yet." Ron's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hair at hearing the sharp tone in his friend's voice.

Harry turned around. "Then if you want to keep your jobs, I suggest you try harder. Dismissed."

Shocked, Hermione and Ron nodded as they left.

They exchanged a glance as the door closed behind them, and Hermione's hand curled around Ron's.

"He'll be okay." Ron said fiercely, the voice of a man trying to convince her of what he had yet to convince himself.

Hermione couldn't help the single tear coursing down her cheek like a sliver of rain. _No, Ron,_ she though silently, _he won't._

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Luna rested her aching head against the stone wall behind her. She needed to escape. But how? The room had no windows, was probably guarded, and had a huge door she would never be able to break down. Her dungeon was fairly spacious, but it was bare, and if she tried to dig a hole in the wall or use some other classic escape method it would be almost impossible to cover up. She needed to pull a Harry. The problem was, she wasn't nearly as lucky or as stupid to try some of the insane stunts he had pulled to get out of sticky situations.

She could use the wandless magic Harry had partially taught her, but she might end up killing everybody. That actually wouldn't be too bad, she reasoned. The worst was she could end up dead, but she was as good as anyways. The best was she would kill all the Death Eaters and Voldermort, and escape in the bargain. She resolved to try, but she had not fathomed a far worse consequence.

The door creaked open and she set her jaw as she caught a glimpse of silvery-blond hair. She sighed silently. Didn't he have anything better to do than bug her?

Right there and then, Luna resolved to hate him. He didn't deserve her pity, it was obviously his fault he was the way he was, and he had tried to kill Harry on numerous occasions. On a more personal level, he had made her school life hell. Alright, then.

She, Luna Lovegood, would from this point forth hate Draco Malfoy's guts, organs, brain, body, mind, heart, bones, and everything else, even his bloody good/hot looks and velvety voice. Ooh, the voice....mmmmmm......

Well, well, wasn't this was going just fine?

Okay, she had her reasons! She knew he was good looking—well; maybe a teensie bit more than just good—but he was an arrogant little bastard.

He was insensitive, and he had tortured her.

There, she hated him.

"Hello, Draco." She sang.

The other grunted and slowly lowered himself into a chair. He wasn't in a good mood, apparently.

His eyes came to meet hers, filled with their usual smugness, if slightly lessened and hinting of exhaustion. That was when she noticed the cut. Mostly hidden by his hair tumbling in front of his eyes, but it was definitely there. Blood trickled from the line that marred his high forehead. Luna's gaze dropped to his hand. It was shaking. Badly. Someone had tortured him recently, probably Voldermort. And it was probably her fault for not telling him where the Order was.

Bugger.

"Something wrong, Lovegood?" He asked scathingly, drawing her eyes back to meet his. They were haunted with pain. SHE COULDN'T HOLD IT IN MUCH LONGER.......she was starting to feel pity....no, this was bad, very bad........his eyes......his hand.......the blood trickling from the cut was almost at his eyebrow. His hand gave a particularly violent twitch.

That did it.

Luna threw up her hands and screamed.

Taken slightly back, Draco drew his head away from her and shifted back in his chair. A smile fought to appear on his face, until it broke out completely and he burst out laughing. "What are you doing, Lovegood?" Was all he managed to gasp in between fits of mirth, holding his ribs in apparent pain.

Luna wailed loudly. Damn it, why couldn't she hate him? "WHY?!!!"

His eyes sparkled with amusement and one eyebrow fought to stay normal. "Just when I thought I knew you." He muttered.

Luna quieted, then gave him a mysterious smile. "You never knew me."

He shrugged lightly. "Probably not."

Luna indicated the cut on his head. "What happened?"

He blinked, but reached up and drew away his bloody fingers. He seemed as puzzled as she was. "Not sure."

"Looks like it hurt. You get some of what you did to me?"

His mouth twitched and his tone grew angry. "That's my business, Lovegood."

He was completely unaware, unprepared for an attack. This was her chance. She shrugged and looked away. Here went nothing.

Luna closed her eyes. Like she had been taught, she focused on nothing and everything at once. She felt power pulsing in her. She felt the room. The stones, the walls, the plaster, the magic that had made it all, the figure seated before her ; they all swirled in her mind, sucked into the whirlwind of dreams and ambitions, lost love and hatred, her wall of self-control, everything that made Luna herself. Her memories flew through her mind. She felt anger, happiness, sadness, physical and emotional pain and pleasure, love, and hatred fly forth unbidden with her recollection of her life. She let it simmer, and then slowly, gathering it in the darkest recesses of her mind, unleashed it like a tidal wave, calling the magic to her.

She dropped back, bracing on one leg, her eyes snapping open like a cat's. The world was in complete focus. She was drifting. Drifting in a room of sharpened detail and heightened senses. She focused on Draco.

She watched his breathing quicken, heard his pulse. Saw the way the blood flowed and his heart beat. Knew where every part of his body was, knew how the robes traced certain limbs, and his others. She felt, above all other things, shock. She savored the taste of it. It was wonderful, coming from him. She watched his hair, the way it shimmered, watched the blood trickle slowly towards his eye. She breathed heavily as she envisaged his gaze, calm and arrogant. He was beautiful, and her heightened sense made him even more so.

She watched the muscles working, contacting and flexing under his skin as he dropped his hands beneath his robes for his wand and raised it, almost in slow motion. He was too slow. His mouth opened, and words left it, furiously demanding an explanation. His voice, too, was lovely. It caressed her ears, and she closed her eyes, savoring it. Then she moved.

Like a panther leaping on a deer, she pounced on him, knocking him over backwards and easily plucking the wand from his fingers. She threw it away, and it hit the far wall with a hollow thunk. He froze. She felt his muscles tense and almost laughed at his fear.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

There was an odd roaring in Draco's ears. He was in complete shock. Luna shouldn't have been able to do that. No one moved that fast. She had just been a blur, one minute watching him, the next pinning him. He struggled, but it was like being a mouse held by a cat. He swore she purred. He opened his mouth in shock, and then swore frantically as he fought to get free.

It was, more than anything else, the look in her eyes that frightened him. There was nothing that reminded him of Luna in them; they were intense rather than dreamy, sharp, and hungry. He fought not to swallow.

"Lovegood," Draco hissed hoarsely, "I'll only say this once. Get. Off. Now."

She laughed then, throwing back her head so that her hair brushed her arched back. "Why?" She asked, leaning forward so that her hair tickled his nose. Her voice wasn't Luna's either.

He struggled harder, but she just laughed, and then rested her head against his. Her face lifted, and then leaning forward even closer, so close that Draco could hear her even breathing, and she licked the blood off his forehead. His left fist came free, and he swung it frantically at her head. She caught it calmly, without even so much as looking.

"That wasn't very nice." She purred, and laughed quietly to herself.

_ She's gone insane_, Draco thought wildly._ She's gone completely bloody insane._

Luna pouted. "Insane? Not yet, dear." She grinned darkly, blood staining her lips making her seem like some hellish harpy. "You, on the other hand, must just yet."

He fought not to swallow.

A spell erupted to his right, lifted Luna up, and threw her against the dungeon wall.

She did not get up.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Blood.

The smell of it excited Luna in some dark part of her conquered mind, but the part that was still Luna was horrified by it. The magic wanted blood. To taste it to feel its rich flavor caress her tongue; it was a need, no longer a mere want.

There was blood on his forehead. His blood was pure wizard, and would lack the harsh flavor of the Muggle's saltier fluid.

Slowly, she brought her head close to his, feeling the exhilarating sensation of his warm skin brushing hers. (Luna would have been tempted to kiss him.) The blood was there, and she almost trembled with anticipation.

Slowly, slowly, her tongue came out, and cleaned the blood off his face. He froze, and then twitched violently. His hand came free, and he frantically swung it at her head. He was very slow, and she caught it without looking.

"That wasn't very nice." She purred, and laughed quietly to herself.

_ She's gone insane_, he thought wildly, his thought echoing like a million bees in her head. _She's gone completely bloody insane._ Must he think so loud?__

She pouted. "Insane? Not yet, dear." She grinned darkly. "You, on the other hand, must just yet."

He fought not to swallow, and she reached to caress his throat. It would be beautiful to watch him swallow.

A spell erupted nearby, lifted her up, and threw her against the dungeon wall. She blacked out, and felt the magic leave her helpless and broken, lying like a smashed china doll.


	6. Assignments

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I get so excited when I see them! I love reviews! (Even if they're flames, cause then I can vent my teenage anger at someone...........hehehehehe)

Apologies for any errors in text, they are my fault, or ffnet's. Ignore them.

Again, major thanks to Lady's Eternal Darkness for agreeing to beta this story and doing a WONDERFUL job of it! (applauds furiously)

Thank you also to Sophie for amazing ideas and support. I hope you enjoy the next chapter! I eagerly await your next fanfic!

Chapter 6

Nature has a strange way of bringing opposites together.

Take, for instance, the flower and the bee. The bumblebee is a worker, buzzing around constantly, wearing his adorable coat of fuzzy yellow and black fur for the world to admire, yet without flaunting it. If any attack him, he will fight back, yet killing himself in the progress. He is selfless, and works endlessly for the good of a despot. His is the noble road. (Sucker.)

The flower, on the other hand, swaying gently in the breeze, pompously displaying her proud hues for all to admire, is the yin to the bee's yang. She is bound to earth, cannot move, cannot see, cannot hear, but interacts with her constant companion, whom she pays in nectar to spread her pollen and bring her a mate. She is her own haughty lady, her own ruler, yet she has no soldiers to defend her, and her most tragic life ends at the fingertips of a child, or at the breath of Winter.

Take, in another instance, Winter and Spring. Spring brings a breath of hope from her mate's cold heart. She may warm him prematurely; he may oppress her until her belated arrival. They operate on different schedules, Winter takes life and brings slumber, Spring end slumber and brings life. Yet Spring may be messy; Winter is always cold, crisp, and precise. How they came to be together is a guess anyone could make, and easily get right or wrong. What matters, however, is that they fit in with each other, and become the light and dark halves of the same whole.

In yet another instance, see Light and Darkness. Light is beautiful, perfect and illuminates the path one must travel. It makes life simple, yet does not crave adventure. What one sees is what one gets. It is whole, open, and honest.

Darkness is the conflicting force in the universe. It is mysterious, loathing, and one can never see beyond what Light illuminates in its depths. It is mystery, the essence of adventure. Some seek it, but few can find their way.

Such is the male and female.

They are different. Very, very different. However, when they mixed, they brew a wonderful yet confusing potion called Love. They are meant for each other; one cannot survive without the other. Thoughts of each other fill their minds, they would die to protect one another, and they are content with everything; a smile, a kiss, a hug, or even the warm glow that flows from loving eyes that shatters hatred and brings a new way of living into their hearts.

They are meant to love each other; and they will do so for their entire lives.

99.99999999999999 percent of the time, anyways.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Draco Malfoy, at that particular moment, could not have possibly despised Luna Lovegood a nanometer more. She had not only forced him to be saved by Pettigrew—he would rather have died than that rat to see Draco being 'raped'—and now he was facing serious problems; utter humiliation, loss of a reputation he fought for years to gain, and his pride. The fact that an unarmed witch had all but pummeled him into the ground and there had been nothing he could have done about it seriously bothered him.

He tugged his silvery hair off his face as he sat outside the door that led to the adjoining hall leading to Voldermort. A strand fell back in his eyes, and he puffed at it irritably. It was getting far too long; he needed to cut it sometime. Or tie it back, maybe. He pulled it back with his hands, and let it fall down his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the man next to him brush back the spikes that coated his watermelon of a head in an almost imitation of the movement; the other on his other side copied him. His flanking guards glanced at him and exchanged small nods.

The two Death Eaters wore identical smirks. They had found the entire thing hilarious, of course, and now insisted on accompanying him in case he was attacked or molested by another unarmed prisoner. He could hardly believe they had once been his companions, but jealousy and power definitely had blown their paths apart.

Draco massaged his hands slowly, deep in thought, and his fingers unconsciously brushed the dark angry bruise on his forearm. He winced inwardly, but the two seemed to notice the almost imperceptible motion.

"Did she hurt you, Malfoy?" One asked, widening his dinner plate eyes into a look of innocent concern.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"He.....he's to choked up to speak!" The other gasped, clutching his chest. "Oh, how my heart breaks!"

Draco narrowed his eyes to slits.

Crabbe snorted on his other side.

Draco fixed him with a withering stare, silently thanking his old Potions professor for teaching him the glare.

They both chuckled mildly. Maybe he needed more work on that, Snape would have had them almost wetting themselves by now. Draco gritted his teeth. His fingers curled around his wand—it would be so easy to kill them right now; nothing was stopping him (except Voldermort)—and he drew a deep breath.

"Malfoy, the Master will see you now." Pettigrew poked his bald head around the corner and waved his silver hand for the other man to hurry. Draco stood.

"Be careful, Malfoy!" Crabbe called after him as he strode after the rat. "You don't want to get molested again!"

Draco's gritted teeth almost cracked.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"Ahhh, Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco. What am I going to do with you?" Voldermort had an expression of dry humor on his face, not one Draco saw too often. He fought a very strong instinct to attack the man; reminding himself over and over that he was just a mere servant. His jaws remained clenched, and his teeth were really hurting now. He fought not to crack one.

"That is not the question now, Master. It is what we are going to do with Lovegood. My punishment is either pain or death; your decision."

"So cold." Voldermort deadpanned.

The silence stretched, as though the elder of the two had forgotten he was halfway through a conversation.

Draco fought not to sigh angrily. The man was senile, he swore. "Master?"

"I am not senile, Malfoy." The other's voice was dark now, and filled with anger. It was the closest statement to a question without being a question that Draco had ever heard. Inwardly, he raised a questioning eyebrow. Was that fear he had heard?

"Of course not, Master."

"As you should remember." His voice changed, returning to its previously humorous state. "We have no more use for the girl, and you obviously seem to want to kill her for some _strange_ reason........I can't _imagine_ why, though.........so have your fun."

Humor was a rare mood for the Dark Lord, and Draco hardly dared to spoil it. Especially now that he had gotten exactly what he wanted. "As you wish."

He bowed, and turned to leave, but was stopped when the Dark Lord called his name.

"Yes, Master?"

"I'm all too sure you have pressing matters to attend to, but I have a question."

"Of course, Master."

"How did you manage to be disarmed by Lovegood? I doubt even you could be that careless."

Draco chewed his lip. "It was strange, Master. All of a sudden, she stopped talking, closed her eyes, and then jumped up and tackled me over. She was incredibly fast. No human could have moved that quickly. She threw my wand aside, and then just........sat on me, Master."

Voldermort threw back his head and laughed.

He hissed in some strange voice Draco didn't understand, and Nagini came and coiled beside him. Voldermort was hissing and Nagini was replying too conversationally for Draco's liking. Voldermort looked surprised suddenly, and then hissed more urgently. The snake answered him with her unblinking calm, never changing her tone. Draco supposed emotion was a human quality the snake did not possess.

Finally, the Dark Lord turned back to Draco. If he had been happy before, he was all but bouncing now. "Nagini told me the girl used magic, but had no wand. She is correct." It was hardly a question, but Draco answered it anyway.

"Yes, Master."

The other grinned widely, revealing his pointed teeth. "Then you won't be killing Lovegood just yet. You are going to learn _exactly_ what she did. And how. When you can do it too, then you can kill her. Until then, you can do whatever you want with her, as long as it doesn't have a fatal outcome. Use your family's old mansion, I will assign a Secret Keeper, and lock you two in to have the best time of your lives. Dismissed."

Draco was dimly aware of one of his molars shattering.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Luna woke up in a different dungeon. Her head really hurt, and she sat up, rubbing it. Her hand hurt too.

The last time she had been conscious was very fuzzy in her head. She remembered Draco being hurt, she remembered trying to hate him, and she remembered attacking him.

The last bit was etched into her memory was sudden clearness. It was very well remembered. Disturbingly well. She remembered the taste of his warm blood, the feel of his skin, the tickle of his breathing, the vibrations of his voice, and his unusual heartbeat.

She was drawing a complete blank after that, however.

She also seemed to be waking up in a lot of different dungeons lately.

The door swung open, and she was greeted by her usual visitor.

"Lovegood," Draco's voice was pure hatred. Luna raised her eyebrows. Grumpy, grumpy! "We are confined to the same living space for the next two months. There is no way out, and a squad of Death Eaters patrols the perimeter constantly. You will tell me exactly what you did to me, and how. It can be done the easy way, or the hard way. The former will be far, far more pleasant for you, so my suggestion is to choose that. You can go wherever you want within the manor;" he flicked his wand, swinging the door open even farther, "and can have any of the unlocked rooms to yourself." He took a deep breath and grinned evilly. "If you cooperate. If not, you can stay here with me and chat for the next two days. What will it be, Lovegood?"

It took her a while to comprehend that. "What?!" She squawked.

"Choose, Lovegood."

"Draco, love, I know we had our problems—everyone does—but that doesn't give you a reason to be so angry—" Luna frantically tried to stall him, her brain screaming and running in circles of confusion. She chuckled lightly to ease the situation.

"This is no laughing matter, Lovegood. Choose."

Luna's mouth opened and closed silently. She couldn't tell him what she knew! She couldn't! Luna swallowed, and then steeled herself. Her expression turned deadly serious, and her voice hid quiet anger. "You'll have to kill me, Malfoy, because I will never, ever tell you anything!"

"So heroic," he sneered, "yet, exactly the response I expected." Draco rolled up his sleeves and pointed his wand at her.

Pain exploded in Luna's body, even before the curse had touched her enemy's tongue. Her heart broke first.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Lupin rubbed his nose furiously with his index finger. It felt like an icicle, but at least his hands had feeling in them. Taking it firmly between his fingers, he spun his hands as if he was kneading dough in a vain attempt to warm it. His nose; fortunately, was not the results of several plastic surgeries and could not fall off, although he felt it surely would if it went from sub-zero to tropical too quickly.

His house was a humble dwelling; it had never been warm, but it had always been at least cozy. He got a warm feeling in his stomach when he thought about it—usually. Today, he was just cold.

He cursed whoever had broken his stove the night before. Namely; himself.

Many things seemed to be his fault these days.

Snape, almost dying _way_ back when.

His friends, risking expulsion to keep him company on a full moon.

Accepting the teaching job, meaning he would be near children who could potentially be bitten.

Harry in his third year at Hogwarts, almost getting killed.

Giving Harry the map back when he was finished teaching.

Dumbledore dying; he could have saved him if he hadn't been so weak.

Harry losing Luna, he should have been there. He should have told Harry that he suspected Luna had been poisoned.

Accepting Harry's offer of trust, a way to draw him from the deep depression he had sunk into lately.

He sighed and gave up trying to revive his nose; burying his thin unshaven face deeper into the itchy scarf that rarely left his neck these days.

His life was pointless. He had nothing to live for but the Order.

Moreover, he knew what many did not, but that would be a secret he would likely carry to his grave.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Draco watched Luna idly as he sat at the desk he had moved into the old storage room. The two were in the "dungeon" of the manor, and Draco hated the room with a passion. It was in this very room that he had, so long ago, agreed to become a Death Eater.

Luna seemed immune to her companion's gloomy mood, she looked around with the happy air of a puppy that was done with its shots; the pain was over and there was the future to look forward to. Except there would be more pain. Much more. And there would be more war. More death. More suffering. Although he hardly dared admit it to even himself, even tormenting Lovegood had lost its fun.

Draco sighed and drank deeply from his goblet. His wand hung between his fingers, long, pale, and pointed; like a white spider. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, and his hair was disheveled.

He was depressed.

Not your usual, down-in-the-dumps kind of depression; he was well and truly ready to kill himself. Except suicide was hardly a way out. Death was hardly a way out.

He should know; he should have been dead twice.

Weasley had shot him through the heart with a beam of destructive magic. He was still alive now.

A flying piece of pipe, sharp and moving incredibly fast, had been blasted away from its original position when a wandering spell had struck it. It had gone right through his stomach, wrapped in his intestines, and pulled them out the other side like spaghetti from a bowl. It had really hurt, and he had a scar to show for it. A most unusual scar. He was still alive now.

Even Voldermort was not invincible. He had been dismembered by that irritating Harry Potter before, but he was still alive. The entire army of Death Eaters was still alive when it had no right to be.

The goblet rolled in his hands, and Draco caressed it rim thoughtfully. He wanted to die; but he couldn't die, apparently, unless he defied Voldermort. Even then, he might be beyond Death's reach if Voldermort refused to let him die and just fell pain for the rest of his life. Stabbing himself or hanging didn't sound quite appealing either.

The answer dawned on him, and it was so obvious he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it before.

He could poison himself.

It wasn't a physical wound; it couldn't be repaired. It wasn't a spell; it couldn't be reversed. The Death Eaters who checked on him at odd intervals wouldn't be there; he could poison himself as soon as they left.

His plan was brilliant. It was virtuoso. It was a masterpiece. It all but glowed. It was radiant. It was perfect.

It was bound to go wrong.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Luna decided she was in love.

It would be too hard to pretend otherwise any longer, and she was rather sick of trying to be loyal to Harry. It was senseless to deny her feeling. She no longer cared for Harry.

Or so she told herself, but she didn't believe it. She knew she still loved Harry.

Luna flipped over and rested her head on her other bicep, furiously trying to relax. She needed the sleep desperately.

She was confused. She knew she loved Harry; he adored her and she him. However, she also had decided to admit to herself that Draco was nothing short of perfect. Moreover, his looks weren't bad either.

This was very, very bad. She was in love with two men who were trying to kill each other and one of them her.

It would probably be the most sensible thing to try escape or kill Draco, go marry Harry, have kids, and live happily ever after.

Luna decided she had no shred of sense.

She couldn't seem to make sense of her feelings. Draco was her enemy. Harry was her fiancé. The choice was obvious to the onlooker. But the onlooker didn't feel the feelings she felt.

It was hard to explain, but she felt _different_ around Draco. She felt her stomach twist when she looked at him; a warm wave of happiness swept through her when he smiled. It was probably a senseless crush.

Luna had never been one to have a crush.

Apparently, she was nothing short of head over heels.

She groaned and tugged on her hair. Why her? Why, of all the people in the world, _him_???

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"All seems to be in order," the tall Death Eater muttered, poking his abnormally large nose around Draco's room, "I see no problems."

Long fingers turned over a painting, checking carefully behind it. They flowed across the walls; brushing the silver trim. They left finger marks. Draco hated finger marks. He fought not to curse the man. That would be cleaning for him later. Finger marks were so hard to polish out of silver. He would be dead, he reminded himself. He wouldn't have to clean the silver.

Out came the wand; the man poked and prodded the wall. "No problems. Of course, that's probably 'cause you have nothing to hide."

Draco, standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his black-robed chest, inclined his head slightly in response to the other's comment and fought not to sigh. Or laugh. He did have something to hide, and it was hidden. Hopefully, the other wouldn't find it. "Precisely why you have no reason to be here, Redden. This is a waste of my time as well as yours. Care for a drink?"

The fool was taking his own sweet bumbling time. Moreover, he was all too close to the bottle that Draco had hidden. The one he wanted to keep hidden. In fact, if the man found it, he would be forced to kill him and blame Lovegood. But that would be too messy for his taste.

Redden sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "No thanks, Malfoy. Have to keep looking. Master's orders. Sorry about it."

"I understand." Draco purred. "Next time, maybe?"

Two inches from the precious bottle, the other stopped. He nodded and straitened. "Sure."

Draco fought not to sigh with relief.

Giving the room a final glance-over, Redden nodded with satisfaction. "All done, Malfoy. See you in—oops, sorry; can't say—see you next time."

He Dispapparated with a loud crack. Malfoy waited a second to make sure he wasn't coming immediately back; then dove for the potion, tearing away the fabric that had concealed it. He held the bottle in his slim hands for a moment, admiring its deep hues and the dark liquid that swirled within it. He opened it and deeply inhaled its fumes. They smelled plantlike. Duh.

He waved his wand idly, still focused on the bottle, and the finger marks disappeared from the silver trim on his walls. He hated finger marks.

To drink or not to drink?

Drink.

In a single gulp, he swallowed its contents. It should be enough to kill him. More than ten of him, for that matter.

The world lurched, and he fell to his knees. It was funny that he couldn't seem to focus on anything. He felt a warm feeling spreading through his body, and he crashed to the floor. His limbs twitched, and then relaxed.

With a soft sigh, he watched his world dim. He slipped aboard the ship of Death, and rode its river, slowly floating farther and farther away from life. No more pain for him. No more life.

Strangely, the last person he would have expected to occupied his fuzzy thoughts.


	7. Loyalties?

Again, thanks to all reviewers! You make me happy (not in the gay way!)! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Note to Kirjava Deamon: Sorry about the exclamation marks, but I can't see where you're coming from (other than in my author notes) there, mate! Maybe I just have a low IQ....

Warning: Some repetition, not as NEARLY as extreme as in other fics, will be in this chapter, so if you don't like, SUCK IT UP!!

Chapter 7

The man buried his face in his hands, fighting the nausea that welled up within him. "I'm sorry, Master!" He cried pitifully. "I'm sorry. Please, Sir, please. Mercy!"

Voldermort stood over his servant, watching him writhe in pain. If he did not need him.......

Ah, if he did not need him! That alone would be sweeter than any thing right now. If only he did not require his services. Then he could kill him and be done with it. The man hardly deserved to live. But he did need him. Unfortunately, he was far too valuable to kill. And there was little to be done about it.

He kicked him with a booted foot, and, with an afterthought, lifted the curse. "Get up." He hissed. "You disgust me."

Bowing and scraping, pleading his thanks, the man stood.

"This time," Voldermort spat angrily, "you will _**NOT**_ fail me. Understand?"

The man prostrated that he did.

"Good." Running an appraising glance over his servant, Voldermort cooled his intense rage with difficulty. "You will be sore and ill for the next couple days, I think." He hissed silkily. "But that is a small price to pay for your disobedience. Go."

The man stood, and ran for his life.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

He had been gone for far too long for her liking. He always came down at three in the morning, noon, and three in the afternoon to "talk" over their issues. But he hadn't come.

Maybe he was dead.

Probably. Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she fought to relax. Why would he be dead? If anything, he probably had left the manor for a break. She should be grateful he wasn't hurting her at the moment, not worrying where he was.

The absence of his presence, however, ached more deeply than any wound magic could inflict. At least torture only marred her body, instead of this; this terrible splitting of her heart and loyalties. She knew she loved him; it was useless to ignore that much. But she still loved Harry. This game of love was getting too dangerous for her taste.

But if Draco was dead, then what was stopping her from escape? Other than the thick wall, nothing. She mentally slapped herself for even thinking that way.

She couldn't go anyways, even if the wall did fall down.

For the love of Pete! It was just a useless, obsessive crush! It didn't even matter anymore. She had a chance to be free!

But it did matter. He did matter. More than she was willing to admit.

Luna had to shake her head at herself. She had her betrothed sitting somewhere, probably sick with worry, and here she was, obsessing over another man. But she was more than just obsessing; she was truly worried, so worried she felt faint.

_You assume to easily that he **is** dead_, she scolded herself. He might just be asleep.

Unlikely.

Call it woman's intuition; but Luna knew there was something wrong. Something very wrong.

She had to find him. It didn't matter how, she had to get out. But the only way to get out was to use her wandless magic, and she had no desire to do that. Maybe Draco was lying in wait, watching her to see if she would try it so he could see how she did it. It could mean death for the whole Order.

Screw that, she'd risk it. She would find him at any cost. And if the little bastard was trying to pull a fast one.........well, then he was dead and she could go marry Harry.

Indecision, indecision, indecision.

She couldn't go. She demanded that much of her honor. Of her loyalties. If she did go, it would mean she was moving on—she would have valued Draco's life over Harry's. Love over duty and love. Hard choice to make, but Luna knew she had already decided.

She had decided years ago, it seemed, as though the decision was and had always been.

She took a deep breath. And then, with an afterthought, another one—for luck. Once she crossed this line, she could never go back. Was it worth it? She pondered the question briefly, before making up her mind. Yes, she had decided, it was worth it.

Luna closed her eyes. As she had been taught, she focused on nothing and everything at once. She felt power pulsing in her. She felt the room. The door, the lock, her washbasin, her bed, her chains, the stones, the plaster, the walls, the floor; they all swirled in her mind, sucked into the whirlwind of dreams and ambitions, lost love and hatred, her wall of self-control, everything that made Luna herself. Her memories flew through her mind. She felt anger, happiness, sadness, physical and emotional pain and pleasure, love, and hatred fly forth unbidden with her recollection of her life. She let it simmer, and then slowly, gathering it in the darkest recesses of her mind, unleashed it like a tidal wave, calling the magic to her.

It answered with an eagerness that signaled it had been awaiting her summon. She felt herself sliding back, as though a firm hand was pushing her into a chair, telling her to take the backseat of control.

No.

Draco needed her. _She_ would be in charge this time.

Luna shoved back. The presence seemed surprised, but nudged her harder, seeming as though it thought she was mistaken. Luna stood her ground.

No.

Draco needed her. _She_ would be in charge this time.

The presence revealed itself, exploding with rage and need for freedom. Luna could taste its thirst. It shoved her so hard it sent her mind reeling, and she fought to retain her control.

No.

Draco needed her. _She_ would be in charge this time.

It was her body. Her mind. Her love. Her need. Her choice. Her control.

Not someone else's; HERS!

Luna's mouth opened and saliva dripped from her lips as she panted and strained against the other in her mind. She fought the magic as though it was a person, straining against it like a brick wall. It didn't budge. Neither did she. It wasn't backing down. Neither was she.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

The snake watched the girl's eyes bulge. She looked like she was fighting something she couldn't see; and it wasn't constipation, a human might have chuckled, but emotion was a human quality she did not possess.

Her pupils flicked sideways, watching the door. Her Master's servant was late. He was off-schedule, most unlike him. Maybe he had slept in, or maybe he was dead. If he was dead, he could always be awoken; if he was asleep, he could always be awoken. Humans were too easily ruled. He would fall when Master said leaf and rise when Master said sun.

She had other business to attend to, anyways. This remained a most curious matter, however, and perhaps she could come back later and watch its finale.

As for now; however, she had loyalties to find.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

She felt the magic humming like a bee she longed to swat. It was outside the door, a fairly complex and powerful spell. It must have been designed to keep her in, but she could feel where to break it. Her eyes closed, she searched its byzantine pattern. It was strong, but not nearly strong enough.

Standing, she dropped back, bracing on one leg, her eyes snapping open like a cat's. The world was in complete focus. She was drifting. Drifting in a room of sharpened detail and heightened senses.

Slowly, she raised her hands. The other presence in her mind leaped forward with a surge of power at the possibility of freedom, but she held it back. She had purpose. She had reason. She had power. She was in control. She owned this manor. She had to find Draco.

The door exploded. Stone chips flew everywhere, and Luna was dimly aware of some scratching and tearing at her face like chunks of shrapnel. She had to find Draco. The spell remained it place a second longer, but she cut through it by sheer force of will.

The need drove her like a rider beating his horse as they fled from wolves. It consumed her. It controlled her emotions. It held her mind. She had to find him.

Luna closed her eyes, and sent tendrils of magic racing out in every direction. They tore through the castle like hounds on the scent of a fox, whirling up stairs and bolting down hallways. She held them for a moment longer, and then called them back to her.

They returned at different times, and she was able to sift through them for any information. Most brought only a lingering scent of him, where he had been or how he had felt. One, however, brought the thought that he was in his room. He had not moved for a day and half. He still breathed, but his heartbeat was slowing, and he had little life in him. He should be dead, it hissed. He should have died by now; there was a foreign anti-charisma in him that should not have been there. She could feel the magic struggling to explain it, trying to put emotions and pictures to a word it could not speak.

Dark rashes, a dry mouth and throat, and convulsions all flashed through her mind.

_Rabies_, she thought grimly, remembering studying the symptoms in Potions class. Perhaps he had been bitten by a rat or something Perhaps. It seemed rather unusual, but she shoved the lingering doubt away. What else could it be?

Inwardly shrugging, she turned to where the magic pointed.

The magic moved.

Luna moved.

Like liquid lightning, they fired up the stairs, one following the other through hallways, up stairs and through doors. If they knocked a vase over in their wake, they did not stop to catch it; if they ruffled the carpet, they did not stop to smooth it; and if the blew painting off the walls, they did not stop to replace them.

Finally, the magic stopped dead before a large set of doors. It frisked around her heels like a small puppy. He _is in this room, Mistress_, it sang, _he is here! Here! _

Luna nodded absently before dismissing the magic. It vanished and she gave it no more thought.

Draco was here. She could feel his presence. Her ear caught the sound of his unusual heartbeat, and thankfully, his shallow breathing.

She released her hold on the magic gingerly, and it left her vulnerable and alone.

It suddenly occurred to her then; she had controlled the magic! Harry would be so proud!

_Harry._

The mere thought of him made her wince. Low blow, perhaps, but she deserved it.

Luna glanced up, appraising the huge silver doors with emerald serpents engraved on them. This was it. Taking a deep breath, she shoved hard on the serpent's tails to open the doors.

They creaked open and a warm blast of stale air hit her, calling her towards the darkness.

To go or not to go?

Go.

Luna set her jaw and descended into the mouth of hell, stepping gingerly forth into the darkness.

The serpents on the door would have smiled, but emotion was a human quality they did not possess.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"Ronald Weasley, you have got to be the most boneheaded of all men in this world! You manage to get yourself beaten up far too much!"

"Don't shout, please, 'Mione, my head hurts." Ron whispered, curled up miserably in his cot, tugging the blankets close up under his chin to protect his aching body. All his nerves were raw and screaming, like a million tiny alarms.

Hermione's gaze softened slightly at his soft plea. "What happened to you, anyways?"

Ron closed his eyes against a wave of nausea, and fought against his agonizing conscience. "Just doing my job." He rasped softly.

In truth, he had been, but Hermione was not to know what his job was.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Harry paced his room. His hair fell in his eyes. He shoved his hair out of his eyes. He poked himself in the eye. He swore. He paced his room. His hair fell in his eyes. He shoved it out of his eyes. It fell in his eyes. He shoved it out of his eyes. It fell in his eyes.

Harry cursed and stalked to his desk angrily. He grabbed a pair of Muggle scissors—a Christmas gift from Mr. Weasley years ago—and chopped it off before he realized what he was doing. Cursing even more loudly than he had been before, he grabbed a mirror and looked mournfully at his forehead fuzz. He could have grown it back; in fact, he had his wand out and the spell half-uttered; but he stopped. It would serve as a reminder for him to control his temper and act only with complete thought.

Heaven knew, he needed the reminder.

He sighed and resumed his pacing, hair soon forgotten as he became lost in his own thoughts.

The war should be over. It should have been long over. But it wasn't.

How it wasn't over was beyond him; he knew for a fact that it _should_ have been. He was the good guy. The good guy always won. Why wasn't he winning? He had defeated Voldermort. More than once actually. More than he should have needed to. Why wasn't Voldermort dead? He was like a bloody cockroach; impossible to kill, even if you cut of its bloody head. Why hadn't he won? Was it his fault? Was there a flaw in his leadership, or was it his followers? Were they not doing their jobs? Was he really the bad guy? No, he couldn't be. He had every one else's best interests at heart, he really did. It must be his followers. Maybe he wasn't strict enough.

Maybe.

No, not maybe; there was nothing wrong with him; that had to be it.

Harry turned and exited his room, slamming the door behind him. Gold and scarlet cloak billowing out like a phoenix's wingspan, he strode down to where he knew he would find Hermione and Ron. He would start with them.

He pounded loudly on the door, and Hermione answered it.

"Harry." She greeted, sounding pleasantly surprised. Her gaze fell on his hair, and she fought to suppress a smile, something Harry luckily missed. "How are you?"

"I could be better," He answered stiffly, banishing her smile with his sharp tone, "had you found anything whatsoever. Where's Ron?"

"He's sick and very sore, and has been since he came home this morning. He blamed the cold weather, but he might be over exhausted. Sometimes you men never know when to quit!"

"I see. Well, then, I suggest _you_ continue questioning Crabbe—and don't leave the dungeon until you found out what he's hiding. Tell Ron the same applies to him when he recuperates. Dismissed." His tone was cutting, but his lack of concern and loss of friendship wounded more deeply than his voice.

Hermione watched him turn to leave sadly. "Yes, sir." She said; and he heard that her voice was thick with emotion, but ignored her shaking shoulders.

What had become of her former schoolmate, Hermione could not even begin to comprehend.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"The dungeons hardly become you, Miss Granger." The soft voice interrupted her thoughts as she sat at the single wooden table under the torchlight, scribbling brief notes on her delayed interview with the Death Eater and her recent findings.

"Of whom _do_ they become, other than yourself, may I ask?" She replied lightly, not bothering to raise her gaze. She could see the figure's dark eyes without looking.

"Very few, I regret." His voice was as it had always been, soft and captivating. Hermione smiled. She felt relaxed when working with its familiarity, almost as if she was at school again. She felt his eyes roam over her work briefly, and refrained from questioning when his robed arm pulled another chair opposite her.

"You spent a rather short time reviewing my notes, Professor." She remarked, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. "Is speed-reading among your many talents or can you not read my writing?"

"Is writing in a microscopic, cramped style among your many talents, or can you only prattle about everything but the point?" The other replied scathingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Have you come to criticize me, good sir, or do you have something of value to speak of?" Joking primness in their speech was custom between the two of them, and she enjoyed dropping back onto formality with at least him.

Snape shrugged. "I wanted to inquire about your progress. Have you found anything out from Crabbe yet?"

Hermione shook her head, putting on a dramatic air to hide her disturbance. "If only I could! I came down to find half of his internal organs falling out of his abdomen. We are completely unsure of what happened. He's in the Hospital Wing right now, and might not live out the night. He's a bit old for that kind of stress."

Snape's mouth twisted with amusement. "You seem to have a knack for finding Death Eaters half-dead, separated from their organs, Miss Granger."

She chose to ignore his reference to the night when she had found him in a gutter. It still gave her nightmares. "Perhaps." She replied shortly, and resumed her work.

The silence stretched; the only sound was Hermione's quill scratching furiously on her parchment.

Snape seemed content to sit by her quietly, but one look changed her mistaken assumption. He was fighting an inner struggle, evident on his scarred face.

"Is there anything else?" Hermione asked, setting down her quill and focusing on the other's eyes.

"Obviously." He replied darkly.

"I'm listening."

"Yet again, Miss Granger, you do manage to state the obvious."

"I don't have all day. Pray, do tell."

"You might not like to hear this, Granger."

"I shall be the judge of that. Tell."

Snape glanced around casually before leaning forward. "I have suspicions, Granger. They are hardly proven, but I do have them." A knot twisted in Hermione's belly. Snape's voice dropped to a whisper. "Someone on our side has been selling information. He cannot always manage to contact the Death Eaters—"

"He? Is it a he, or are you just using third person in your speech?"

"Yes, it is a_ he_. Stop interrupting me and listen. Anyways, he has not always been able to always contact his master, and that is perhaps the only reason we are still alive right now."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione felt panic well up within her.

"You are one of the few whom I know for sure are loyal to the Order. I can trust you. You are intelligent enough to keep this to yourself, and your help could prove invaluable."

"I'm flattered." Hermione said softly. In truth, she was.

Snape gave her a wry smile. "You should be."

Hermione leaned forward. "Who is it?"

"Do you trust me, Miss Granger?"

"Of course I do!"

"Good. (It is my turn to be flattered, I suppose.) However, before I tell you, Miss Granger, I might warn you that you will not like the answer."

"I will hear it, either way."

"Very well. The informer," Snape's lips twisted at the word, and Hermione was reminded of his old job, "is none other than Ronald Weasley."

Shock numbed Hermione's senses, and all she could do was gape at him, her mouth working like a fish's. "You must be mistaken!" She finally managed to gasp.

"Ah, but if I was! I wish it were not so, Miss Granger, and the informer was anyone but him, but it is as it is. There is nothing I can do about it."

"But this is Ron, Severus! Ron Weasley! Harry's best friend! My fiancé!"

"The facts remain, Hermione." His black eyes regarded hers sadly. "I'm sorry."

"What proof do you have?" Hermione demanded angrily. She knew he was mistaken, and felt it was her duty to defend Ron.

"Whenever Ron was absent—and yes, I have been keeping track of his leavings— for more than two days, we were attacked. It would take two days for the Death Eaters to pinpoint our location from a description."

"That hardly proves anything—"

"Voldermort was displeased this morning, Miss Granger. I felt my tattoo burn. He was soon calm afterwards, meaning someone was punished. That someone is likely bedridden. Where is your fiancé at the present moment, may I be so bold as to ask?"

"Recovering," Hermione replied instantly, desperate to defend that her fiancé was not selling information, "he was feeling unwell and sore this morning—"

"Symptoms of recent torture, perhaps?"

Realization hit Hermione like a brick wall. "Not Ron! You're wrong. He couldn't—he...." She began weakly, fighting nausea and panic. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. "......he wouldn't—oh, please—no! Not Ron!" she seemed to regain a hold on herself, and although the blood had drained from her cheeks, she held her composure erect. "You're wrong." The words were re-enforced this time. Immovably so. She had convinced herself.

"I'm sorry." Snape sounded genuine. "I liked him in a way, he seemed to be more bearable as he matured, but we must face facts."

Hermione shook her head. "You're wrong, Snape. Ron wouldn't betray us."

Snape shook his head sadly. "Should you change your mind and come to reason, Miss Granger, you know where to find me. I trust that you will keep this matter to yourself. Do not even tell Potter."

Hermione nodded numbly. "Of course."

Snape inclined his head mournfully. "I shall see you soon, Miss Granger. Very soon, I hope."

"Farewell, Professor."

They parted then, the antithesis of how they usually had done so; Snape left the dungeon and Hermione remained behind to brood over his words.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"I don't believe he will hold on much longer, Master."

"Neither do I. He will die soon."

"But what if he reveals something before he dies?"

"He cannot."

"Begging your pardon, Master, but he just might."

Voldermort chuckled. "When I said your dear father cannot, Crabbe, I mean that he p_hysically_ cannot. I had my loyal servant remove his tongue along with the parts that supplied him life."

"Very clever of you, Master."

"I know. Now leave me. Send in Pettigrew. I have a job for him."

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡


End file.
